𝐋𝐮𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐧'𝐬 𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧 | 𝟏𝟖+

XII

Violet

⚠️triggering topics mentioned ⚠️

—Violet's New Room—

ꜰᴏᴜʀ ᴅᴀʏꜱ ʟᴀᴛᴇʀ

I watch Francesca's hands move with precision, carefully folding each piece of clothing. Feeling a need to join her, I step closer and begin folding a few pairs of jeans.
Despite the silence between Lucian and me since our last encounter, he's made some significant changes—my closet has expanded, and I've been unexpectedly moved to a far more opulent room.

The walls are painted a soft lavender, adorned with intricate patterns—my favorite color.
An enormous window stretches across from my bed, leading to a spacious balcony that offers a breathtaking view. There's even an en suite bathroom, adding to the luxury.

As I take in my new surroundings, I can't help but wonder about Lucian's sudden absence. Is this his way of making amends? If it is, it's a shitty way to apologize.

"Francesca," I murmur, sorting through the clothes with deliberate care. "What day is it?"

She turns to me, her face lighting up with a gentle smile. "It's March 27th, dear."

I almost frown, I don't even know how long I've been here. The thought of my mother and sister arriving to an empty home in a few months fills me with a profound sadness.

   "Call for me if you need anything," Francesca says softly before she exits, closing the door with a quiet click.

I nod before turning back to the clothes.
I'm still surprised that Lucian has granted me the freedom to roam the house. Though it's only been a few days, I haven't ventured far, or rather, I haven't ventured at all. My time is consumed by reading countless books and writing endlessly.

I can't help but ponder if this is what the rest of my life will be like—endless days of solitude and introspection. I slowly make my way to the bathroom, each step heavy with exhaustion.

I've been thinking an awful lot about Silas— The phone still remains untouched. I wonder if he would ever permit me to use it to reach out to anyone. I'd definitely call my mother.

My reflection catches my eye, and I pause, staring at the stranger in the mirror. My face is gaunt, my cheekbones more pronounced than ever before. The person looking back at me is a shadow of who I once was, worn out and fatigued.

My gaze shifts to the bathtub, its enormous size still surprising me. It could easily fit four people, making it feel more like a small pool than a tub.
The water begins to rise, steam swirling around me, creating a foggy veil. I strip off my clothes, the cool air brushing against my skin, and step towards the inviting warmth.

I dip my toes in first, testing the temperature.  
It was perfect, just hot enough to relax my aching muscles. Slowly, I lower myself into the bath, the heat wrapping around me like a comforting embrace. For a brief moment, I feel the tension in my body dissolve, my mind quieting.

But then, my thoughts start to creep back in, relentless and consuming. Lucian's words echo in my mind, a haunting refrain that has kept me awake for nights.

His absence is a constant reminder, leaving me in a state of perpetual wonder. Even if Marcelle was a murderer, why did Lucian choose to kill him?
The question gnaws at me, refusing to let go.

As I sink deeper into the warm water, the steam envelops me, blurring the edges of reality.
My mind drifts, caught between the soothing embrace of the bath and the unsettling thoughts that refuse to leave me in peace.